


I Can't Help Falling in Love with You

by readdreamwrite28



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Battle of Hogwarts, Child Abuse, Coming Out, Drarry, Hints on infidelity, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Secret Relationship, Starvation, Torture, Wizarding Wars (Harry Potter), harry potter fandom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-28
Updated: 2020-07-28
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:34:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24817693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/readdreamwrite28/pseuds/readdreamwrite28
Summary: Harry stood up and set his hand out to Draco. “Dance?”“I didn’t know you danced, Potter.”“Hm, I’ve danced a lot in my time," Harry replied smugly.“How do I know you won’t step on my feet?”“You don’t, but I think the risk will be worth it.”
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 12
Kudos: 174
Collections: HD Wireless 2020





	I Can't Help Falling in Love with You

**Author's Note:**

> Song Prompt: I Can't Help Falling In Love With You - Elvis Presley

They met in Madam Malkins, briefly, before Draco was called by his mother. Harry stared into his intriguing grey eyes. Draco stared into Harry’s marvelously green eyes. They reminded him of someone, sometime, before he could remember barely anything. They had not asked one another’s name, but they were instantly connected, even if Harry had thought that the kid was a prick. Draco had had a similar thought himself.

And then they landed themselves in detention together.

Harry hadn’t any idea when or how they ended up half an inch apart in the forest (the one strictly banned to all students) or how they had not yet noticed the increasing chill in the air. Possibly, it was because the heat was radiating between them, maybe it was because they didn’t care, because they were so, so, close that ghosts of warm breaths were shadowing their faces. When they had noticed, it was Draco who stumbled away, screamed, ran, who had left Harry alone, with no knowledge of how to protect himself against the hooded thing, but a simple, most likely ineffective, disarming charm. Yeah, he was mad, and he wouldn't have lived if it hadn’t been for the centaurs.

When people had found that Harry spoke Parseltongue, most everyone was frantic. The last time there had been a Parselmouth was fifty years ago, and that one turned out to be a Dark Lord. But Harry was no Dark Lord, and certainly wouldn't want to be called so just because he had been seen in the wrong places at the not-so-right time. Everyone found the truth out in the end though. Like every other year, somehow, Harry saved the day, blah, blah… blah. Draco only seemed to become more interested in him.

When Draco “came out”, his father banned him from going anywhere with anyone and therefore locked in the dungeons of Malfoy Manor for the entire summer. After all, in his father's eyes, Draco was made to be the father of the next Malfoy heirs. This meant that he would date a girl, he would marry her, and he would have children, whether he liked it or not. Harry was, when he eventually “came out”, showered in love and support from everyone. Mrs. Weasley had knitted him a rainbow clad scarf and a jumper that included a bunch of different colored snitches that he wore everywhere.

They had started 6th year silent to each other. But over time, and they had no idea how (especially after the bathroom, Malfoy was not only SO embarrassed, he was hurt), they became... friends? No- maybe. They were something. They met in the Room of Requirement (RoR) almost every day just to talk. It was nice. Tense, uncomfortable, but somehow friendly.

"What happens when the war is over?"

"I don't know, Draco. It'll take a long, long time for everything to be okay, and I doubt anything will ever be normal, ever again. Not that it ever was," Harry traced shapes and random lines up and down Draco's arm and across his back. "Once, I thought that I'd never, ever, see what the real world was like, or have friends, let alone a boyfriend. I thought the only place I would ever be able to go, was a cupboard. Sometimes I wish I could go back there. It's, er, hard to understand, because the people I was with were abusive, but, it was a safe place. I could think about what living was actually like.

"And I wasn't alone, I had toys and my imagination. When I was little and couldn't do any magic, or it was easily covered, Dudley used to play with me, but then my magic started growing stronger, so Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia had to make it stop." Draco let Harry talk, he knew by now that it was what he needed to do. Plus, on occasion, it was nice to just listen to Harry's voice, even if he was talking about unhappy memories or bad days that he'd had. Draco found it helped him, too.

"That's not what I meant, not entirely."

"Oh?" Harry wrapped his arms around Draco- who was working on homework for ancient runes- from behind. He was trying to get used to touching, both receiving and giving, it was easy to accept Hermione's hugs, but it had taken years for that. "What did you mean then?"

"I meant, what happens when you kill V-Voldemort-"

"You mean _if_ ," Harry interupted.

"You will, Harry, I know it. But what I was saying is, _when_ you beat him, what happens to Hogwarts, our families, our _home_? What happens to us?"

Harry's heart ached. "Hey, it's going to be okay, _we'll_ be okay. we've made it this far haven't we?"

Draco smiled, "I guess we have."

They owled when it could be done but mostly they used one of the coins Hermione had charmed to use for the D.A. One day, during the summer holidays, Draco didn’t answer… he didn’t answer for a week… a month… two... Harry felt worried sick. He felt sicker than any disease could make him, _any curse_ could make him. Draco had told him that he might not answer for a while but, Harry didn't think he meant _this_ long.

Draco felt completely sick when he had been asked to use the unforgivables. How could he? They were innocent people. They had lived, probably families, loved ones. None of them deserved to die. None. And he couldn't cast the spells anyway, he didn't- _couldn't_ mean it.

Draco, lo and behold him, had lost the coin when his father- quite literally- threw him in the dungeons. He had been through multiple crucio’s in a week, he couldn’t move. After the crucio’s stopped, he was starved. At least I can move, was his only thought. One day, after an ever-so-sparse meal that his mother had begged his father to give him, he sat up, and still recovering from the weeks of crucio, crawled over to where a shred of light was hitting something and bouncing into his eye. He picked it up, the coin, he remembered. It felt warm in his hand. Comfortable. He gently whispered, **“Don’t worry,”** and then, **“I love you.”** and tapped it twice to make sure it was there, and he wasn’t going crazy.

Draco went back to Hogwarts the next year to find Harry wasn’t there. Instead, he was with Ron and Hermione doing whatever heroic thing he had set himself up to do. But he kept the coin with him everywhere he went. When they were all slowly going mad with Slytherin's locket- when they were most stressed and everything seemed to go wrong he had Draco to keep him in on the loop of everything that was happening at Hogwarts.

It took him almost the entire year to show up. Draco was furious and relieved to see him. They couldn’t talk to each other much, personally. Not in front of everyone, but when Harry had appeared through the portrait in the hideout others-mostly Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, and Ravenclaws- it was okay. They had talked for a couple of moments and Draco had surprised Harry by hugging him before they all had to leave. Draco cried that night. Harry was there for one day, gone the next. They would see each other soon enough, though, if not too soon.

He was at the manor. He was there. In front of him. In front of his Aunt Bella, his mother, his father, Greyback… “Call him! Draco! Call him!” He hadn’t got the chance before Bellatrix was grabbing the back of his neck and forcing him down on his knees, snapping his head forward, in front of the three captures. None of which looked healthy, or well, at all. He didn’t identify them. How could he? But that had only meant that when they had found that it _was_ 'Harry Potter and his Gryffindor posse', he would not only have explaining to do but more time at the end of his father's wand once they were gone.

Draco saw Harry when he and Ginny were kissing. Hell, he was close enough to hear Ginny say, “I just had to do that once.” Harry looked dumbfounded, Draco felt betrayed. He turned around and ran as fast as he could. He ran past people dueling, he ran past Severus, he ran from it all. He ran to the forbidden forest, he ran and ran and ran. He ran until he felt like he was on fire, or maybe he felt ice cold. He didn’t know.

He heard Voldemort in everyone's head, he was in his too. He knew that Harry would be there. That he would die. Again. So he ran. He ran back to the once wondrous and safe, but now dark and deluded, castle. He searched. He went to the RoR, he put up a half-act. He didn't mean any of it.

“Why didn’t you tell her? Bellatrix. You knew it was me. Why didn’t you tell her?” The only thing Draco wanted to say he couldn’t. He wanted to say that he loved him, he wanted to tell Harry to not do it, to not leave him. But he couldn’t, not with Goyle and Blaise right behind him. "You know why, Harry. And do it again and again and again, if I had to."

Goyle was the one to start the fiendfyre. Harry was the one who saved him. Draco held on so tight it hurt. Ron had saved Blaise. Harry flew them out, landed, and immediately turned to Draco and kissed him. It was goodbye, perhaps forever, and they both knew it. It was a passionate kiss, fueled by hate and love, sorrow and joy, it was both hello and goodbye. Ron flew out with Blaise as they parted. Draco was surprised that no one had noticed by then, except for Hermione, but Draco had had the feeling that she'd known for a while. Before Harry flew off to the forest, and Ron flew with Hermione to kill the last Horcrux, Harry’s voice was filled with regret as he said, “I love you,” and kissed Draco one last time.

Everything after that was a blur, a mess of this and that, of death and guilt. They were all walking towards the entrance. The death eaters were there. Voldemort was there. Hagrid was there. Hagrid was holding Harry. Harry wasn’t moving. Harry was pale. Out of life. Harry was gone. It was silent, so very silent. The only break they got was when Ginny Weasley pushed her way up to the front. “No! NO!” She wasn’t the only one who felt any remaining strands of hope, of light, disappear. “Just because Harry’s gone, doesn’t mean he’s left us! He's with us! In our hearts, in our memories. And YOU! He’s still with you, Voldemort. I’m not afraid of you!” Neville was holding the sorting hat, he reached in, and out came the sword of Gryffindor. He swung it around and held it pointed at Voldemort, who laughed. “You think a sword can stop me! Ha! Foolish child, just like your parents. I’m your leader now, Harry Potter is DEAD! So come forth and bow to me! The most powerful wizard in the world!”

“ _Draco. It’s time._ ”

Draco knew what was happening, he hesitated still. “Draco!” Waiting for _something_ he stood for a moment more, watching. He solemnly walked up to Voldemort and was greeted in a most unpleasant hug. It was cold. Draco felt cold, empty, heartless. He wasn’t whole. He had never been whole. Not without Harry. Harry made him whole. He never had a home. Hogwarts became his home. Then it was Harry. Harry was his home. Have you ever felt so low, so lonely, that even just someone saying hi to you, can make your day? Draco had felt the exact opposite of that. He had felt happy, and peaceful, content. But now he felt torn and numb like his soul was torn into so many different corners and only left him enough to live. But he put on a mask, one that he had spent so long forming, the mask that he had only let fall in front of so many people.

Harry was still there, he had a choice. A choice Draco thought he would never have. The choice to live.

He stirred, just slightly. And caught Draco’s grey eyes, eyes that if you knew how to read them, could show anything. He had met death as an old friend. Death was wise. Very wise. And Harry wasn’t dead. He was very much alive. He’d be the boy that lived, twice. It was fine. He hated the attention, but that was the effect of many years of being ignored and shoved into cupboard.

He rolled out of Hagrid’s arms. Everything seemed to be in slow-motion. Draco grabbed his mother's wand from his pocket. “POTTER!” He threw it. Harry caught it. He caught it and ran. He ran before anyone could move. Not that anyone would or could move. Draco watched after him. Not with awe, as most everyone else, but with hope and discontent.

Harry was high on adrenalin, the air whipping in his ears, stinging his scar, his legs growing tired but not noticing because he was _alive_. He was fighting. And he someone to fight for, someone other than his best friends, someone he loved and loved him in return. It felt _good_. That's why he kept going. That's what drove him.

He did it. He won. It didn’t feel like it, but he had. He had defeated Voldemort. _“Do not pity the dead, Harry. Pity the living, and most of all, those who live without love.”_ Dumbledore had said that to him. But he couldn’t help but feel some sort of... guilt, maybe. After all, he had just killed someone.

“Harry! You did it! It’s over. He’s… gone...” Hermione became less confident in her voice as she looked at Harry. Draco remembered vividly what had happened. Hermione and Ron ran after Harry. Harry who had just killed someone. Guilt consumed him. He drowned in it. He fell to his knees. He curled up in a ball, wanting the Earth to swallow him. “Harry. Are you okay?”

“Harry, mate, that was bloody brilliant.”

“Shut up Ron!” Draco ran over to him. Hermione gave him an understanding look and nodded. Ron, however, took a more defensive stance.

“What are you- leave him alone!”

"No, Weasley, I won't. In case you didn't notice, Harry just _killed_ someone. Even if that someone was a secluded, evil, plotting, maniac, that tortured and killed muggles and muggle-borns and made others squibs for fun," Draco snapped. "He may be your friend, but he's **my boyfriend**." Ron looked horror-stricken.

“Are you serious?! He lived with the maniac. He has the mark!”

 _That_ pissed Draco off. "Yes, I do have the mark, and yes, I did live with Voldemort." He felt sick. "But did neither by _choice_. I was scared every day of what would happen. They threatened to kill my mother. They- they," Draco choked, "they threatened to do _many_ things not to her but me and everyone important to me," he gestured to Harry, "also. Not to mention what they _did_ do to the others."

Ron still looked opposed to the idea but flushed and backed off. Draco sat down next to Harry and set a hand softly on his back. “Harry.” Harry looked up at him. His face was wet. Draco wiped away the tears with his thumbs.

“Draco?” said a broken voice.

“Are you okay?” Harry shook his head, sobbing. Draco pulled him in and let Harry bury himself in his chest. Draco held on tightly, it hurt to see Harry the way he had been- no longer laughing, smiling- he looked no longer like the boy who could cause mischief in the blink of an eye without realizing it. He was no longer the boy who snuck around in halls at night, who could laugh at the Weasley twins' new tricks. And perhaps he wasn't- perhaps they weren't those people anymore- but it was okay. Harry lifted his head after who-knows-how-long and kissed him softly.

“Ehm…” Hermione cleared her throat.

“Oh, uhm... Yeah.” Harry bit his lower lip.

“So…” Ron clapped his hands together. “Who tops?”

“Ron!”

“S’okay ‘Mione.”

“But it’s me,” Draco said, slightly laughing.

“Draco, We haven’t even-”

“Yet. We haven’t yet.” Harry gave him an accusatory look and Draco booped his nose, making Harry go cross-eyed. “Merde, Tu es tellement stupide. Mais Je t'aime.” Harry had no idea what he just said, but he smiled regardless.

“I don’t know French.”

“I do, and it’s a good thing you don’t.”

“You two do know there are other people here, right?” Hermione gushed.

“Is there? I don’t see them.”

“Ah- You filthy little-” She chuckled, shaking her head.#

After:

They had both been to a mind healer, some appointments were together. Most of the time they spent together was after a really bad night.

But now they were healthy, and moving on, together.

Ron and Draco got past their differences and became (and though they don’t say it) friends. Draco and Hermione worked well together, both spending time with their noses in books and proving everyone else wrong most of the time.

Still young, still recovering, they spent most of their time together- at home, at muggle movie theaters, restaurants… you name it. But after three years of it, you can understand when someones ready and sure on their feet.

“I need something simple, understated, but could brighten a room at the slightest hint of light.”

“I think I have something…” The jeweler walked to the back of the shop, leaving Harry alone with his thoughts. Five minutes later, she came back with possibly the most Draco-like ring Harry had seen in the last three shops he had been to.

“It’s perfect!” Harry said, slack-jawed. The ring was white-gold with little leaflet patterns engraved into it, bedazzled with tiny diamonds here and there. Sitting in the middle of a square diamond was a beautiful emerald.

“It’s funny, no one would buy it!” The jeweler exclaimed.

“How much?”

The jeweler scrunched her face. “Who are you buying this for?”

“My boyfriend, the love of my life.”

She looked thoughtful for a moment, then asked, “What would you do if it meant he was safe and happy?”

The question took Harry by surprise, but he answered honestly. “Everything. Life, death, anything.”

“Then this one is on me.”

“What! No, I can’t let yo-”

“Love, the truest and most important love, is worth more than any amount of gold, silver, life, death, money- could ever buy. And that,” she put the ring in the box, “is why you will take this ring,” bagging the box, she continued, “and only if you are 100% sure that he is the one,” she shoved the bag in his hand and took a deep breath to hurriedly spout the last bit, “give it to him, not to show how much you love him in objects, but to show that you will stay by his side and love him for who he is, till death do you part.” She took a step back and brushed herself off from her previous stance, which would be leaning over the counter and pointing her finger into Harry’s chest.

Harry bit his lip, a memory- though not his- triggered, reminding him of a man he was not always fond of, but knew that in the end loved him. “Always,” and smiled at the jeweler. “Thank you. And, I never quite caught your name.”

“Julia. Julia Evans. Now go!” And with that, Harry turned around and walked out of the shop.

Draco had been busy brewing potions all day. As he closed up the potions and coffee shop he and Harry had named, “Deathly Hallows” for lunch, he wondered where Harry was. He was usually home for lunch by this time. Speak of the devil, Draco thought as Harry walked in, looking thoughtful.

“You’re late, Potter,” Draco said mildly.

“Did you know that The Beatles used the word ‘love’ 613 times in all of their songs?” Harry ignored Draco’s comment.

“Really?” Draco said, somewhat sarcastically.

“Dunno, I just heard someone say it on the street just now.” Harry grinned. “What’s for lunch?”

“We could eat at home or we could go to Fortescue’s?”

“We don’t have any food at home,” Harry deadpanned.

“Well then, we can eat at Fortescue’s and stop to get groceries on the way back.” Draco brushed off his apron and hung it up. He then washed his hands and changed into the shoes that Harry had condemned as “dressy” and “uncomfortable”.

Harry was impatiently waiting at the door, wearing his trainers that Draco has believed to be “too casual” or almost like a slipper. Though, he had practically lived in dress shoes most of his life, and only wore trainers when he was working. “Could you be any slower?”

“Ah, the late one wants me to hurry now?” The blonde said, tying his shoes slower on purpose.

“I mean it, otherwise I’m going to have to tackle and kiss you.”

“Calm down, Potter, I’m done,” Draco said, grabbing his boyfriend’s hand and walking out the door.

“You’re insufferable.”

“I know.”

As they walked up the street, Draco realized that he had forgotten the engagement ring at the shop. Deep in his thoughts, he failed to realize that he had facepalmed out loud.

“Where did that come from?” Harry questioned. When Draco looked at him to answer, the late-day sun was causing a glow behind Harry and made his eyes glow dark green. The rims of his dorky glasses shone in the light.

“Nothing, just your stupid face.”

“Oh, so it’s my stupid face that made you facepalm?”

“Precisely.”

“Hm… and it’s your stupid face that’s making me do this,” Harry turned and grabbed Draco’s face and kissed him softly, but using his magic he sent a whirlwind of strength, warmth, and as much love as he could before pulling away and resting his forehead against Draco’s. “I can’t help falling in love with you,” Draco smiled gently and rubbed noses with Harry.

“Neither can I.” Draco linked arms with Harry and walked off to Fortescue’s, pushing off thoughts of the ring for a moment.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Draco unlocked the door with a handful of grocery bags and stumbled through the doorway, laughing at something Harry had said.

“Why are you laughing?” Harry questioned. “I literally couldn’t eat anything for a week.”

“Oh, that wasn’t a joke?” Draco replied.

“No, it wasn’t.” Harry sighed, but then grinned. “You have the strangest sense of humor.”

“I’m not the only one.”

“What? I don’t!”

“I never said you did. I merely said I’m not the only person in existence that has a dark and fairly odd sense of what is funny to them.”

“Yeah, right,” Harry rolled his eyes in a certain fondness. “It was implied.”

“What was implied?” A voice said from the fireplace. Harry looked up, it was Hermione.

“Oh hey, ’Mione. Nothing.”

“Hullo. Can you come through for a moment?” She asked.

“I’m in the middle of something... maybe tomorrow?”

“That’s fine Harry, I’ve just forgotten something at the shop.”

“What’s that?” Harry questioned. “You don’t usually forget anything.” He slightly teased.

“Well, I was in a hurry. You were late.” Draco complained.

“You sure took your time leaving, even though I was late.”

“Alright you two, I’m going to stop by mums, be back in a few hours,” Draco said as he slipped out the door, leaving Harry no chance to answer.

“Harry, please I need to talk to you. It’s about studies.”

“Fine, I’ll come through, watch out.” Hermione stepped away from her fireplace while Harry grabbed a handful of Floo powder and called out the address.

As Harry walked out of the fire and dusted himself off, Hermione made a pot of tea. “So… did you find a ring?”

“Yes! It’s PERFECT!”

“Really? Can I see it?”

“Yes, it’s right here in my pocket…” Harry reached into his pocket and grabbed the ring out of the box, and amidst his excitement, he flung it across the room and it landed in the fireplace. “BLOODY-” Harry scurried over to the fireplace and stuck his hand in the fire quickly to grab the ring.

“Well, you could’ve just summoned it, or put out the fire, but that works, too.”

Harry sighed and scourgified the ring. “Shut up and look at it.” He handed it to her.

Hermione rolled her eyes and grinned but took the ring. “Oh, my- Harry. It’s beautiful!”

“I know! And it’s so Draco, too!”

“Oh, before I forget Harry, I found the thing you asked for…” Hermione pulled out a few items from the other side of the sofa she was sitting on. The items included consisted of: An oak picnic basket, a light lavender-and-white checkered picnic blanket, and plain white plates with matching cups.

“Thank you, Hermione. I just knew that these would be hard to find and I don't have anything at home and-”

“Harry, It’s fine.” Hermione put her hand on Harry’s shoulder. “When are you proposing?”

Harry took a shaky breath- his nerves kicking in, “Tonight.”

“Really?”

“Yes, and I was hoping you could help me set it up?”

“Of course, Harry! Anything. We’d better get working too, Draco said he’d only be an hour or two.”

“Right on then. I’ll floo back and see you in about 5 minutes?”

“Yes. I’m going to leave a note for Ron, he gets worried sometimes,” she mumbled.

“I know.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Draco walked into their home with all the lights off, the fire put out, and only the sink running, washing dishes, which meant Harry ate. “He’s probably in bed already.” Draco assumed aloud. “But he’s never gone to bed this early. It’s not even nine yet.” He sighed. “Oh, well.” Turning the sink off, he set down the plate of scones his mother had given him. He walked into the living room and sat down with a cup of tea, he pulled his current book out and started reading. After a few minutes, he heard a muffled cough come from the chair across from him.

“Mister chair, did I just hear you clear your throat?” Draco asked, suspecting that Harry would be under his invisibility cloak.

“Yes, indeed. I am absolutely and entirely a talking chair,” the voice said in an extremely high-pitched mocking voice. Draco, startled, looked beside him to see Harry wearing baggy worn blue jeans, a tee, and a grey light-weight jacket.

Draco smiled, “I thought you had gone to bed.”

“Nope. Here,” Harry handed him a bag that looked like it had clothes in it. “Put them on and then meet me in the garden.”

Draco raised his left eyebrow in suspicion and curiosity, but he listened. Five minutes later he was wearing black jeans, a tee, and a charcoal-colored jacket. I should grab the ring now, in case the time comes, Draco thought. He picked the ring up and flicked in the air, catching it smoothly.

“I despise jeans…” Draco mumbled, standing right next to Harry.

“Hm? Take my arm.” Draco did and was pulled off the ground immediately in a side-along apparition.

They landed on their feet with a thump. Draco looked out. Miles and miles of rolling hills with different grasses and wildflowers met the sunsetting sky, fading from pale blue, to yellow, to a soft pink and light purple. Harry grabbed Draco’s hand after a minute and started walking to where he (with lots of help from Hermione) had set up the picnic.

“Where are we going?” Draco asked, a small smile plastered over his face.

Harry grinned and bumped Draco with his hip, “You’ll see.”

Only about 10 minutes later did Draco see a small patch of light. Harry was walking ahead of him, running his hand over the waist-high reed-canary grass, sage, and lavender. It reminded him of something, the scent. Draco stopped, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath.

It reminded him of home. Actually, before home… What was before home?

Summer nights in Northern Ireland, from when he was little. Mother and father… when they were still happy. It was a long time ago.

Harry looked behind him, wondering where the sound of footsteps stopped. He looked back, and he stopped. He saw Draco just- standing there. Not moving, just breathing. He slowly walked over to him and wrapped his arms around Draco’s hips.

Draco didn’t seem fazed by it at all… in fact, he smiled gently, and opened his eyes to look directly into gentle, and bold, green ones. Taking a breath he said, “It’s funny…”

“What is?”

“This place,” he walked into taller grass while Harry watched him. “It reminds me of... home. I mean, not the manor. A place we'd occasionally go in the summer. Before Hogwarts,” he looked at Harry, “Before you.” At this moment, Draco didn’t feel grounded, warm, cold. He felt, he felt like he was running, but not running at all. “Do you ever feel like-” Draco whispered. “Like you're running, but never really running, just the out of breath feel, but not? Like you’ve run your whole life and then, it just stops, you stop. And everything is just, floating…”

“Unreal… like it’s too perfect to be real… but it is- real. Almost like running on clouds or walking on water.”

“Exactly.”

They walked a bit more, hand in hand, feeling the wind and enjoying the cool air. Then they came upon Harry’s setup, which included a bouquet of daisies, crocuses, jasmine, and purple peonies, a woven picnic basket, and a bottle of rose cider. Draco stared at the sight, and the ring started burning holes in his pocket.

“Oh, Potter, Potter, Potter, Potter. You couldn’t even bother to get _proper_ drinks?” Draco teased.

“Shut up.” Harry playfully shoved Draco to the ground and sat down beside him. He pulled out the silverware, set out the tea sandwiches and croissants, and poured them each a glass of cider. After a while of eating, Harry reached in the basket, pulled out a radio, and tuned it to a station with slow music.

Harry stood up and set his hand out to Draco. “Dance?”

“I didn’t know you danced, Potter.”

“Hm, I’ve danced a lot in my time," Harry replied smugly.

“How do I know you won’t step on my feet?”

“You don’t, but I think the risk will be worth it.”

“Fine.” Draco took Harry’s hand and only let him help him up a little bit. Harry pulled Draco away from the blanket. Draco placed his arms around Harry’s shoulders, and he felt safe, in a sense.

Harry was happy just to be close to him. Watching the way the light softened parts of his face. He looked relaxed, free. Draco felt a blush creeping up his chest and back of his neck. “What?”

Harry realized he was staring and turned red, “Nothing, just... you.”

They finished their food and sat back-to-back, looking at the clouds as they passed. Draco realized that now would be the perfect time to propose. Harry was thinking the same, the sky was turning a darker blue but the sun was just above the horizon, setting off a gentle light and causing a ripple of different colors flowing out above them. They both simultaneously pulled their rings out of their pockets, without knowing they were in sync.

“Harry-”

“Draco-”

They found each other kneeling before one another, each holding their rings.

“Marry me?” Harry asked clumsily. Draco thought it was cute.

Draco raised his eyebrows, “That's the best you can do?”

“Like you can do better?”

“Two words: You. Wish,” Draco said with a grin.

Harry rolled his eyes, “Whatever will I do with you?”

“Marry me.” Draco grinned. “Told you I could do better.”

“Mhmm… sure you did.”

Draco straddled Harry and sat on top of him. They were both smiling like the idiots in love that they were. “You know, I don’t think we’d ever be here if it weren’t for the war,” Draco said, tangling his fingers in harry’s hair.

Harry hummed and contemplated for a beat. “I mean, yeah. But…”

Draco knew he was thinking about all the people they had lost, and yeah, it was a lot. Everyone knew that. He couldn’t lie, they lost good people. Remus, Tonks, Fred… he could go on. “Harry, look at me.” Draco didn’t know what he was going to say, and instead opened and closed his mouth trying to figure it out. Harry squinted at him and grinned. “What?”

Harry quietly sang a couple of lines from a muggle song that he had heard when he was younger, “Like a river flows, surely to the sea Darling, so it goes, some things are meant to be. Take my hand- Take my whole life too- For I can't help falling in love with you.” He set a flower crown on Draco’s head and looked at him. Draco looked content, and with the last bit of sunlight quieting, he looked quite- well- beautiful.

As if Draco had heard what Harry thought he responded, “Malfoys aren’t beautiful. They are-”

“I wasn’t talking about Malfoys, Draco, I was talking about you,” Harry drawled. Draco leaned forward and gave Harry a chaste kiss. “What was that for?”

"You."

Draco smiled and his eyes crinkled (though he would deny that later, for no particular reason). Harry folded his hands behind his fiance's neck and pulled him in for another kiss.


End file.
